Through the Mist
by Deepy
Summary: His face was coming closer, so close that she could feel his breath upon her face. And something inside her told her to stay, to let this moment go as far as it would go. Yet, something else also told her to turn away, repeal this act of closeness. He


Through the Mist

Her vision was shrouded in mist and nothing was discernable in the darkness.  She reached out with her hand, only to be met with cold air, sticking to her skin like the early morning dew.  She hated feeling like this, trapped and blind.  As she stepped through the mist, it only thickened, until she was at last shivering.  It was cold, oh so cold.  It threatened to engulf her, this cold; she felt it seeping into her skin and dull her every senses.  She could feel her hair sticking to her face, and her white gown clinging to her form.  Yet, she continued to walk, aimlessly, not knowing where she was going.  If she could just walk long enough, perhaps the end will be in sight.  

"Eowyn…"  Someone was calling her name.  That voice, it sounded so familiar, but she could not place it.  She turned her head, trying to make out a figure.  It was dark, and the mist clouded her vision.  And there was no one that she could make out.  She continued to walk, when suddenly, the voice came again.  "Eowyn…"  

"Who are you?" she shouted into the mist, feeling the cold entering her throat.  No answer came.  That voice…it was like a warm balm against her head, clearing her mind.  She longed to find the owner of that voice, and yet, somewhere in the deep crevices of her mind, she knew who it was.  But his name…was a mystery to her.  Her feet kept moving and she could feel herself shiver.  

Lo!  There it was again, this time, nearer.  Almost…as if…he was close by, she reached out, hoping to feel some part of him, an arm, a chest, a face, anything.  She felt herself needing to see who he was.  Somehow, she knew that if she would just find him, then the cold would fade.  Oh how much she desired warmth, she was so cold.  Her pride spoke out violently against this desire, her independence calling out, shouting at her to find her own way out.  For she was a shieldmaiden, she needed nothing and no one to save her.  

Then, she felt warmth, as a pair of hands touched her shoulders.  She turned around, only to find the mist, and the hands gone.  Yet, she was no longer shivering.  On her shoulders was a cloak, of thick wool, that protected her from the cold.  She hugged it closer to herself as she continued walking.  

She turned then; someone else was calling her name.  This voice was different.  It filled her with sadness, and she was torn between the desire to run away, or to stay and wait for the voice to come back.  It was closer now, and at the sound, she felt herself rooted to the spot.  She could see the mist clearing and a figure stepping through it, towards her.  Eowyn could not move, though she did not know if she wanted to move or not.  The silhouette looked incredibly familiar, and somewhere in her mind, she identified him instantly.  The darkness hid his face, but she did not need to see his face to know who he was; the broad shoulders, his tall stature, his dark, matted hair, always messy, always tangled, yet she found alluring nonetheless.  His very presence awoke a desire within her to rise up, to rebel against her habits and duties, and to seek out valour at all cost.  This feeling threatened to overwhelm her, though she did not know if she wanted it or not.  Perhaps she did, but in this cold, she was no longer sure.  

He was getting closer now, and calling out to her.  At each step he took, she was filled with more and more dread, why, she could not explain nor could she not turn away.  Without a word, he extended his hand to her, a hand that promise to usher in a new life, a life of glory, of power, and most importantly of all, of renown.  This was it, this was the moment she had been waiting for, what she had fought for and almost died for.  Yet, now, standing in that cold, her mind was yelling at her to give in, to finally get the retribution for her actions.  And it seemed logical, for this was what she had wanted, was it not?  Yet her heart…her heart that has always been so silent, spoke up, in a mere whisper.  One word, "no."    

"Eowyn…"  There it was, his voice.  She turned her head, she could feel him, and he was close.  She felt the soft fabric of his cloak against her body, and its comforting warmth.  Looking at that shadowed hand, she made her decision.          

She ran, through the mist.

*

Eowyn opened her eyes, only to be met by the darkness of the ceiling.  Her breath was coming in slow gasps, and she shivered, pulling the blanket tighter to her.  Even now, she could feel the remains of the mist wrapping its long fingers around her.  This was not the first time she had walked through the mist.  But it was the first time she had refused his hand.  Why?  Was this not what she had wanted, what she had strived for?  Yet, she had refused.  It was the first time she had felt the warmth that she did not know until now she needed.  Even now, Eowyn longed to feel that again.  For a reason unbeknownst to her, through that warmth, she felt a sort of comfort that she had not felt in a long time.  Whose hand had it been?  Her mind was plagued with endless questions and she shook her head, attempting to clear it.  She could not comprehend the reason for her feelings in that dream and felt no need to linger on a dream that was nothing more than a dream.  

Making up her mind, Eowyn left the bed, her feet hitting the cold floor, sending a shiver up her legs.  She stepped into a pair of white slippers and made her way to the doorway of her room.  

The air was still when she immerged into the open.  She looked up and saw the stars, twinkling down brightly.  Everyone was asleep, save for the watch guards who stood diligently at their posts.  They turned to look at her as she passed them, making her way to the walls of the city.  It was dark and nothing could be seen, but she felt the urge to just look into the distance, at the foreboding mountains in the night, and to stand in the silence.  Perhaps then, she would find comfort.  

It was there she saw the Lord Faramir, standing there, and unlike her, clad in a heavy cloak to protect from the cold.  She looked downwards at herself; she was clad only in her nightdress and a thin robe, which provided not much protection from the night.  Not that she felt this cold, it was nothing compared to what she had felt in her dream.  She stood there and looked at him for a while, taking in the sight of him.  He was fair, all truths be told, with his dark hair and soft features.  He had a hint of pride but also of humbleness, and of a sadness that was always in his eyes.  He radiated kindness, and compassion, but she could tell that if needed, he could be an imposing figure.  

During her examination of him, he turned, and their eyes met.  Blue against brown.  They were silent for a moment, looking at each other, through none of them knew the reason why.  Under his gaze, Eowyn felt herself laid bare, and for some reason, she felt shy.  His eyes pierced the very depths of her flesh to look into her soul, and she felt naked under his kind gaze.  But she did not falter, though she blushed, and remained looking at him.  

Finally, it was Faramir who spoke, "You should be resting, my lady."

"I could not sleep," she said, her voice small, "And my mind needed to be cleared."

"Then it seems we have something in common tonight, my lady, for I too have an unwearied mind and can not sleep.  Come, stand with me so that we may have each other's company in this restlessness."  He extended her hand out to him, an all to familiar gesture.  Her gaze dropped to rest upon his hand, bare.  His hand was different, it did not promise what the other had promised, of great things.  In Faramir's hand, there was the promise of peace of mind and company.  A company she needed at this moment.  So, without a word, she took it, and joined him to stand behind the walls.

They stood looking out into the darkness in silence, none of them saying a word, each taking joy in the company of the other.  Their hands were still clasped.  A wind blew then, and Eowyn shivered under her thin clothing.  This did not escape the notice of Faramir, who unhooked his cloak and wrapped it around her.  Their eyes met again, as the cloak, still warm from Faramir's body, hung around her shoulders.  He pulled it closed, shielding her from the wind.  His scent, of something she could not pinpoint, overflowed her senses and she could feel herself drowning in it, delirious.   And yet, she felt something inside her rejoicing at it, wishing to stay in this delirium for as long as humanly possible.  Her mind yelled at her to wake up, but she scarcely heard it.     

His hand lingered on her shoulders, and it was then she felt the familiarity of that touch.  That touch…that warmth…it was the one in her dream.  Now, she longed for him to say her name, to confirm her thoughts.  Instead, he was silent, and a lingering hand raised up to cup her cheek, stroking it with his thumb.  She felt herself leaning into his touch, no longer felt cold.  His face was coming closer, so close that she could feel his breath upon her face.  And something inside her told her to stay, to let this moment go as far as it would go.  Yet, something else also told her to turn away, repeal this act of closeness.  He was so close, too close for her to allow.  'No.'  

And she turned, feeling warm, but strangely empty.  His hand had left her cheek and he was no longer looking at her.  

There were to be no more words that night, as they stood there, side by side, each absorbed in their own thoughts.  But the presence of the other calmed their minds, and finally, those thoughts were finally laid down to rest.  For Eowyn, when that happened, she felt tired, for sleep was returning to her.  And her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, before finally shutting.  She did not see Faramir picking her up from her standing position, nor did she see him carry her back to her room.  She did not see the care in which he took in removing the cloak from her, in placing her down, and in pulling the blanket upon her.  And especially, she did not see him leaning down and placing a gentle kiss upon her lips, before leaving the room to go back to his own bed, leaving behind his cloak.  

What she did see, however, was a green valley, with a sunny sky.  The mist and cold was gone, replaced with warmth.  She could feel the rays of the sun upon her skin, and then, as light as a feather, a soft touch upon her lips.  And in that place, she was comforted for now. 

Fin…

*

A/N: Now…what that random or was that random?  I don't know, the idea just came to me and I just started typing.  I know there's no point, but there weren't nearly enough Faramir and Eowyn scenes in the book (and none in the movie) to satiate my love of the couple.  So, I came up with this!  Please review and tell me what you think of it.      


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